


forbid

by ndnickerson



Series: runaway AU [3]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Forbidden, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carson forbids Nancy to see Ned. She disobeys almost immediately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forbid

**Author's Note:**

> Language warning.

It was after the arrest that her father told her _You will not see him, you will not spend any time alone with him, you promise me._

And for the first time in her sixteen years she did hate him, she really did hate him. She and Ned weren't even dating, not really, and her father had never forbid her anything, and even when she protested and said it wasn't Ned's fault, that the fight and the damage weren't his fault, her father didn't care.

 _Nancy, I mean it._

She was furiously angry that night, on the bleachers at the football game. Ned had been put on probation from the team after the fight and the arrest, so he was sitting on the bench, in street clothes, bent forward over his knees, his foot jogging up and down as he watched the game. They were getting utterly destroyed. _If he were out there,_ she thought, _if they could just sneak him out there in someone else's uniform—_

But they didn't. George spent the game grousing that if Ned had to fight he could at least have gotten out of there before the cops showed up. Bess was more concerned about the girl three rows back who was wearing the exact same mini cowboy boots she'd had her eye on for a week.

Nancy glanced over at Ned's parents, halfway down and on the front row. Nancy couldn't help it; from what she knew about his father, from everything she'd uncovered, he was a weak man, easy prey for stronger men, and in the lines of his face she saw the preoccupation, the worry, the fear he had to be feeling. Ned's face, though, was hard as stone. He'd had to be, through everything.

Ned's mother glanced up when a couple walked by them, muttering something, their faces twisted in anger. Mrs. Nickerson's eyes crinkled at the corners.

She hated it, too. She had to hate it, what this had done to her family.

During the final play before halftime, Nancy made some mumbled excuse about heading for the concession stand and went down to the fence enclosing the field. The bench was still ten feet away from the fence, but as soon as Nancy reached it, her fingers tangling in the cold metal, Ned half-turned, then turned fully. His eyes were wet from the wind, but she could see it in his face, had been able to feel it since she'd found out about the fight. He was miserable. And it was never going to stop. Not until she did something about it.

The buzzer went off and Ned immediately swung off the bench, walking straight for her, his gaze locked on her. The coach bellowed for the team to follow him to the locker room, and Ned's teammates trooped off after him, heads bowed, helmets dangling from their fingers. From behind her Nancy heard a few people shout at Ned, snide comments about the arrest, asking why his ass was warming the bench when his team was getting theirs kicked, but she couldn't take her eyes off him, not even for long enough to launch a withering glare at the hecklers.

"Hey." His hand came up and his cold fingers brushed hers, and she shivered.

"Hey," she replied. "My—my dad doesn't—"

She trailed off, twisting her hand so she could push it through the fence, and Ned's fingers covered hers. His gaze dropped down.

"Your dad what," he said, and then he peered at her from beneath his lashes and she tilted forward. His presence had never affected her quite so much as it did, then.

"Ned—"

She could feel the crowd behind her, the interested gazes, the straining ears. But Ned's brown eyes were locked to hers and she couldn't make herself look away.

He sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"So that's it? The case?"

The case. At once Nancy was blindingly angry again. How dare her father tell her what to do, who to be friends with. Ned needed her help. He needed her. And she wasn't going to give up on him.

"Meet me back at your car after the game," she told him.

\--

Her voice kept jumping while she lied to Hannah about a spontaneous sleepover with Bess and George. Once she hung up the pay phone she lingered there, keeping one eye on his Ferrari. He had parked at the end of the lot, near the school, under a streetlamp, hoping to keep his car from getting vandalized again.

The parking lot turned into a sea of brake lights, strings of teenagers weaving between cars, happy shouts and insults. Then came the cheerleaders, bundled into sweatpants, hair tumbled around their faces. Then the players, defeated, newly reamed out by the coach, carrying duffel bags, gazes on the ground to avoid the accusing stares of the audience.

It didn't matter so much, not to Nancy. Eventually Ned would be off probation. Then they'd win again.

Bess and George walked by, Bess in her butter-soft suede coat, George in her letterman's jacket. "So, I guess I need to call my mom, huh."

Bess fluttered her eyelashes. "Oh, like we're going to see Nan tonight."

Nancy blushed, jamming her hand in her pocket. "I just need to talk to Ned for a little while."

"Sure." George elbowed her cousin.

As George fed quarters into the pay phone, Nancy felt a hand against her elbow. She whirled and saw Ned standing there.

"Hey."

She gazed up at him. "Hey."

He glanced around. "If you don't mind, let's get out of here. It's... it'll get nasty soon."

"My car?"

Ned shrugged. "I gotta get mine out of the lot. Let me park it at home, just pick me up there."

Nancy nodded, and watched Ned steel himself to cross the lot. His shoulders were hunched up, his gaze down. A bunch of upperclassmen spotted him and she cringed when she heard their shouts carry across the lot.

 _Hey Nickerson, want to get your ass kicked again?_

 _Guess your daddy's money couldn't fix this._

 _Hey, how much cock you think you'll have to suck to get back on by next game?_

At the last one Ned whirled, his jaw clenched, fists out.

Nancy broke into a run. "Ned," she called out, but she didn't get to him in time to stop him. The grinning lowbrowed senior staggered to his knees after Ned's first punch, and Ned drew his fist back, panting. Then Nancy reached him, grabbing his other arm with both hands, and when he whipped around to see who was holding him back, his face was frightening, set in cold furious anger.

 _Promise me._

For the first time since she'd met him she actually felt afraid of him. She fought the urge to take a step back, to release him, to cower under the punch she could feel him tensed to deliver.

Then his face softened. One of the senior's friends helped him up and he made some comment about Ned being such a pussy that he had to have a girl save his ass from getting kicked again. Ned shot the other man a hard glare, as Nancy tugged his arm.

"Come on."

At his car, Ned turned to her again. She hadn't released him. "So, back at my house."

She nodded. "Think you can stay out of trouble until then?"

The smile suddenly left his eyes. "I can handle myself."

She let her hand drop. "I know you can."

Halfway across the lot, she glanced back, to see him watching her.

\--

She didn't know how they ended up at Flanders Field. She was terrified that her father would find out she was with Ned, and that the farther away she was, the more terrible the punishment would be. But one of the first places he would probably look for her, after Ned's house, after Bess's house and George's house, would be here.

But part of her wanted it. Part of her wanted to stand up and scream, fists clenched, until her father saw reason. Part of her dared him to catch her, dared herself to stand up for this.

This guy who wasn't even her boyfriend.

He had started quietly, but his voice had grown louder, angrier. He had no one to talk to about his life, and she knew that; Bess and George were there but they were her friends, not his, and she'd never known him to approach either of the cousins when she wasn't with them. He had no friends left at Mapleton and the football team's opinion of him was based entirely on how the game went.

She was trying not to feel sorry for him, but it was hard. He was just so alone.

"What exactly did your dad say?"

Ned said it as she switched the car off, took the keys out of the ignition. Only a few other cars were parked around them; it was still early and most of the couples had gone out for a burger or shake after the game instead of heading straight to the makeout spot.

Nancy glanced over at him. "He said I had to promise to stop seeing you or being alone with you."

"So our 'project'?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I..."

Ned shook his head. "I can't believe your dad did that."

Nancy frowned. "He doesn't understand. He's just... being protective."

Ned looked down. "So you promised to stop seeing me."

She stared at him, willing him to look at her. "I didn't want to. I didn't... Ned, how can I help you if I can't see you—"

"And I'm sure that's all you cared about."

Nancy found herself flushing again. A few times, when they had been talking about the case, talking about Ned's father or what she'd found out, she had glanced up to see him gazing at her mouth, and she had always felt a bolt of pure glorious electricity every time his skin touched hers. But she hadn't wanted to spend hours poring over his every glance or comment with Bess; whenever Bess teased her, she just put her friend off. Because it wasn't like that between them. He was just a... client. And he was dangerous and he was a social pariah and her father would never be okay with it and she was pretty sure his father was up to his eyeballs in trouble with the mob—

And then his gaze met hers again.

And this, this was what trumped all that, the way his gaze made her feel weightless, sick with anticipation, speechless under a sudden wave of desire. If he touched her, if he didn't break this spell, she wasn't sure what she would do.

She knew what she wanted to do. She knew that she wanted to see if the brush of his lips over hers would feel any different than Don's tentative kisses; she knew that she wanted to know what his kisses were like, period. And that she was scared as hell of what that might mean.

She forced herself to say something, anything. "N—Ned—"

He pressed the release on his seat belt. "I don't want to stop seeing you," he said, his brown eyes glowing with intensity as they held hers. "I know, this is too fucking complicated," and he snarled the curse and she flinched a little, but she was held spellbound by him, "and with my dad and everything, but, Nan, I don't want to stop seeing you."

 _Nan._ Her friends called her Nan. Hearing the word on his lips felt almost embarrassingly intimate. But she liked it.

And he had just said the word _fuck_ in front of her. While they were alone together in her car.

"I don't want to stop seeing you either," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

\--

He kissed absolutely nothing like Don Cameron.

It wasn't like she had that many boyfriends or that many kisses to compare his to, but the wave of almost violent desire that his kiss woke in her was staggering. He tilted his head and one of his hands touched her hip and she felt the seat belt drag over her breasts as it released and then she was sliding her arms up around his neck. His hair was soft against her fingers.

His tongue was in her mouth, swirling around hers, and she mimicked it, a shiver making its way down her spine.

He pulled back and she let out a little whimper, unconsciously. His gaze on her made her feel exposed.

"Backseat," he said.

In the half-second it took Nancy to scramble out of the driver's seat and into the back, she had enough time to wonder what he meant, what he would want, what would happen, whether she should let it, whether she should say that she needed to get to Bess's house—

Ned was taking his jacket off.

She took her own jacket off, tossing it into the front seat, and settled back. When he touched her cheek she felt it down every single nerve ending, like fire.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that?"

She shook her head. She couldn't have spoken even if she'd wanted to. She just wanted him to keep touching her.

"That first day I met you when you were in my car."

Nancy smiled. "So what took you so long?"

He brushed her hair back from her face. "That deer-in-the-headlights look you get. Like right now."

"I do not," she protested.

"You do," he said, scooting closer to her, across the seat.

She shook her head and a few loose strands of her ponytail brushed her cheek. In frustration she let her hair down, and he gently ran his fingers through it, and she closed her eyes.

What the heck was she doing.

What the _hell_ was she doing.

She opened her eyes and studied his face, his gorgeous eyes and unfairly-dark lashes, his full lips, his strong chin, his square jaw. She hadn't really let herself look at him before; her gaze had always shied away, reluctant to linger on him too long, to give herself away. His own gaze roamed over her face, lingering on her mouth.

Without thinking she tipped her face up to his, sliding her arm up around his neck, and he released a pleased groan as their mouths touched. He shifted his body against hers, and one of his hands drifted down her side, to the hem of her shirt. His fingers were a little cool against her skin as they drifted beneath, and she jumped, letting out a little sigh.

Don had never, ever put his hands on her this way.

But then she hadn't wanted him to, either. Not this much.

His palm drifted to the small of her back and she pushed up on her knees, kissing him hard. They slowed and he kissed the point of her jaw, her neck, her throat, his other hand snaking under her shirt.

This—this was impossible, too fast, too much.

He kissed the hollow at the base of her throat.

She felt sensitive. Every square inch of her skin felt sensitive, flushed and longing for his touch. He took her leg and tugged, urging her to swing over his waist, and she did, the crown of her head brushing the car roof in the process, her blue eyes rising to his.

"Deer in the headlights," he murmured, hooking a finger under her chin, a light smile on his lips.

"So you do this a lot."

"What?"

She made a vague gesture. "Go... go parking with girls."

His eyes darkened, a little. "All the time," he teased her. "I mean, I have to beat the girls off with a stick, haven't you seen it."

She tilted her head. "You kiss too well to not have practiced."

"And you kiss too badly to have had any practice."

She leaned forward until the tip of her nose was touching his. "Really."

He nodded. "Really."

She tilted her head and kissed him, hard, her tongue in his mouth, and almost immediately he slipped his hands under her shirt again, drifting up her spine until he was touching her bra, and then she was aware that she was straddling him, that she was too close to him.

She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled back. "Better?"

His hands were still on her bra, and he studied her eyes, almost daring her to say something about it. "Show me again," he said.

She leaned down until their mouths were just brushing, until their breath was mingling, and reached behind her, finding his arms, pushing them away. She gave him a brief, light kiss, then another, and when he tilted forward she tilted back, smiling.

Then he grasped her ass and pulled her forward, until her inner thighs were against his hips, until her legs were fully parted to him. He let his hand rest at her side as he drew her face to his again, and he kissed her until she was limp in his arms, her eyes gone heavy-lidded.

"You are so damn beautiful," he whispered, his mouth red from the press of their kiss. "Have I said that?"

She shook her head, lazily. "And you are probably the most handsome guy I've ever met."

"Probably?" he repeated, and she had to laugh at the expression on his face. " _Probably_?"

"Definitely the most handsome guy I've ever kissed."

"Well, that's better," he admitted. "Of the two."

She clicked her tongue. "I've kissed more than two guys," she said. "How many girls has it been?"

He mimed counting them off on his fingers, tapping them one-by-one against her back. "None," he said, but that teasing smile had fallen away.

"That—"

"None compared to you."

She knew it was bullshit but her gaze dropped to his mouth again and soon he was kissing her again, and this time when his hands slipped under her shirt, they slid up to gently cup her breasts through her bra.

She pulled back. "Really?"

He nodded. He squeezed her breasts gently and she arched against him, her hips brushing against his, and Ned let out a soft groan.

"Do that one more time."

She shook her head. "We... have to stop."

When he didn't move his hands immediately she reluctantly grabbed his forearms and pushed him back. "We have to stop."

"For now."

She nodded. He was gazing at her like she was the last person left on earth, like he was drowning and she was the only person who could save him.

"I'll take you home."

She started to push herself up on her knees, when he touched her hand. "When can I see you again?"

"To talk about the case?" She was smiling.

But he wasn't. "To talk about anything," he said, his fingers closing around her wrist. "I just—I just need to see you again."

She nodded. "We will."

"When?"

The tone of his voice made her lean forward, pressing her mouth to his again. "It's okay," she whispered. "I... next weekend. We'll get together next weekend."

"What about your dad?"

She shook her head. "He'll understand," she said, looking down. "You're a good guy, Ned. It's just that things have been awful lately."

He reached up and touched her cheek, and she glanced up at him again. "They _were_ awful."

She smiled at him, then slid off his lap, climbed out of the car. The night had to be ten degrees colder; overhead, through the gaps in the tree cover, the stars blinked cold down at the parked teenagers, the ghostly beauty of the field before them.

She got into the driver's seat. Ned had taken her coat out of the seat, and sat with it folded over his lap. She cranked the cold car and turned the heat up, resting her arm on the console between them as she turned around to back up.

His fingers lightly brushed hers, and then he took her hand.

One day she would know, for sure. One day she would have to tell him the truth about his father. Maybe she would never see that melting look of desire in his eyes again, after.

She squeezed his hand.

 _Just not yet._


End file.
